


To Sleep, Perchance

by 1f_this_be_madness



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Angry Roger Taylor (Queen), Angst with a Happy Ending, Band Fic, But it's because, Communication, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Exhaustion, Family Drama, Frustration, Gen, I feel like I write Rog angry a lot, Lack of Communication, Light Angst, Mostly on Brian's behalf, Protective Roger Taylor (Queen), Roger Taylor (Queen) Is a Good Friend, Sad Brian May, Sleep Deprivation, Squabbling, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:41:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22174969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness
Summary: Working in close quarters is one thing, but living with people for years, not only working with them, can cause some issues and some friction that needs to be resolved.(Or, Brian and John share a room while on tour and conversations/frustrations ensue)
Relationships: John Deacon & Brian May & Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

_Brian - Morning, your snoring is UNREAL! Have a lovely day rehearsing, I'm tired. John_

Brian finds this written on a bit of paper, affixed to the door of the hotel room he is sharing with Deaks this tour. Usually he shares with Roger, and Freddie in the early days, but both of them have been going to parties far more often than he and John of late, so his is the room in which to get some sleep.

Except for last night, apparently.

He had slept so hard that he is now worrying, clenching the note in his hand. Had John tried to wake him? And if so, how often? Was Brian effectively shutting him out whilst unconscious, the way John seems to feel when Bri wants another solo to do? The guitarist frets. 

Roger, meanwhile, passes Bri in the hallway as he holds his red special in one hand and the note in the other. Brian looks up as Rog says "morning, mate,"

Brian, face pinched and worried, replies "Morning, Rog." Holds out the note for Roger to read. "Is my snoring that bad?"

Roger squints at the paper and then starts laughing. "You remember those times I told you to fuck off? It was because you were snoring. But you always rolled over and quit when I pushed you. What the fuck is he writing a bloody NOTE about it for?"

"I don't know, but what if he's too tired to perform tonight? If he can't do it, can't go on, it's my fault," Brian blurts out in a rush, voice thickening with panic and eyes glazing with tears.

Roger's eyes widen and he deliberately steps to face his friend, reaching up and putting both hands on Brian's shoulders. "Brian May, for being so bloody intelligent, you're also such a stupid bastard. John can take a fucking nap in the green room, or Christ, he can come back here. Hell, if he's too tired I'll MAKE him come back and take a nap. But it's not your fault for snoring. You actually got decent sleep for once. Didn't you?" He shakes Brian's shoulders as the taller man bows his head. "Did you sleep well, Brian?"

"Yes, I-- I did," Brian's voice cracks and his shoulders start to shake as he begins to cry, his tears blotting the paper. "But that-- it makes this even worse, I'm used--"

"What? Because you're used to being fucking exhausted, and John isn't? Bullshit, he's got a whole passel of screaming kids at home. You're fucking tired almost every day and push through, so he can do it once." Roger lifts his hands and cups them around Brian's face, brushing tears from his cheeks. "I'll tell him, too."

Brian's eyes widen with horror as he does his best to suck back his tears. "Rogie, don't-- it's alright."

"No, it's not, you don't need something else to help you feel like shit, Brian, you do that to yourself enough!" Roger makes a decision as he lets go of Brian and they head down the hallway together, Brian lifting his arm and wiping his eyes on one sleeve: "If he says or does anything in rehearsal, I'm fucking telling him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As someone who has slept in the same room with family on vacations and whatnot, I totally understand John being frustrated by Brian's snoring. But I'm also with Roger and would've yelled at Brian (or thumped him with a pillow) during the night rather than writing a note.
> 
> Many thanks to my friend whose father wrote a note similar to John's, and from whence this idea came :) and thanks to the mother whose wondrous snoring precipitated said note ;P
> 
> Hope you enjoy this, comments appreciated <3


	2. Chapter 2

The band sets up in their rehearsal space, which is onstage as the roadies scramble around to hang mics and tweak lighting equipment. Brian and Roger come in together to see Freddie stroking a hand over John's hair as he sits, looking pale. Brian's body stiffens as Roger gives him a bracing pat before running over to his drum kit. "Alright, who the fuck set this up?" The drummer asks, pulling out his sticks and flipping them end over end. He points around mock-threateningly before bursting into a bright grin like a shaft of light that makes a tired smile come to John's face. Good ol' Rog.

Brian pulls out Red and tunes her, stepping around John who lurches upright after his amp gets plugged in, scrubbing a hand down across his face as Freddie strokes his cheek with the back of one hand before striding to his standing mic and yanking it off the stand. Coming into their first number perfectly on pitch. 

John doesn't come in. Roger slows his drumbeat as the bassist's fingers are sluggish. Brian's guitar slides sharply, his sixpence bouncing down and clattering to the surface of the stage. Bri ducks and tries to pick up his pick, fingers sweaty, slipping against the dusty black floor.

"Right, it's fine. Let's go again. Ready, Freddie? One, two, three!" Roger calls, smacking his sticks together and banging his head to call them in as he catches Brian's eye. John manages to get going this time, but is almost instantly off beat.

"Time, John!"

"Shit--"

Brian looks woebegone, Freddie concerned, and John is pissed. Roger forcibly halts the bassist's rehearsing. He snatches John's bass out of his hand and shoots “Right then. Go get some sleep, right now!” at the bassist. John starts sputtering about needing to work, and Roger sighs "Calm the fuck down, John, and go the fuck to sleep." He swaddles John in a blanket that he grabs out of their ready room while the bassist continues his protests. "If you're gonna complain and you can't even get your fingers across your bass, you're going to take a bloody nap, you numpty. We have time. Now shut up and go sleep."

"I _would_ have gotten enough sleep last night--" John begins, glaring balefully over at Brian, who sucks in a breath as he hunches over his guitar as if in agony.

Roger snaps "Yeah, well, cry me a river, Johnny. I've shared a room with Bri too, and he quit snoring after I prodded him. Did you try waking his lanky arse up, or did you just leave a damn note?"

John blinks, his silence and the expression on his face a clear answer. Telegraphing shock at Roger's vitriol, as well-- he had expected, well, hoped Rog might take his side.

But Roger simply huffs and shakes his head with a humorless smile. "That's what I thought. You didn't say anything, didn't even try to stop him snoring, and yet you're ripe and ready to complain. That's rich, John."

John opens his mouth to protest with a wince, green-grey eyes huge. Freddie glides over. "Now Roger," he speaks soothingly, but the drummer stops him.

"Nuh-uh, Fred, don't you dare take Deaky's side til you see this bloody note he left Brian." Roger beckons for Brian to give it, and the guitarist wants to sink through the floor. His hands are shaking. Wishes Roger hadn't seen this, why had he asked if he snored so awfully in the first place? This is all his fault. "Stop it, Brian," Roger's voice slices through him. "I know what you're thinking and fucking don't. Here, the note." He snatches it from Brian's shaking fingers, as Bri had stuffed it in his pocket after leaving their hotel, since he had taken it off the room door. Roger shoves the paper at the singer. "Read it, Freddie."

Freddie takes the tear blotted, crinkled paper carefully with dainty fingertips and reads, his eyes twinkling a bit. "Well that's quite a way to tell him off for snoring, darling," he says to John. "And you surely pulled out all the stops to scold him," Freddie turns his face to Roger now. "Is this a witch-hunt, Blondie?"

Roger scoffs. "It's not a bloody hunt when we know who was being, well, witchy."

Freddie presses his lips together. "That isn't kind, Roger," he speaks quietly. "John was tired, his note reflects that."

"Well BRIAN was crying, the note also reflects that!" Roger shouts. "Honestly, you know how he is-- you know how he gets on himself, the both of you!"

John's face blanches and Freddie's eyes widen. They both look at Brian, who's clenching his hands together, long face ducked down. "Oh, Brimi, is that true?" Freddie asks.

John gulps, shifts a little. "I... didn't mean to make you cry about it, Brian. Honestly." He sucks in a breath and stands up in his blanket, shuffling over. "I should've talked to you. I-- I'm sorry," he utters quietly. 

Brian looks up at him, tears filling his eyes again. "Oh, Deaky, I'M sorry," he croaks. "You look so pale and your hands-- they never fumble like that, it's--"

"It's okay, Brian," soothes John, shifting his blanket and patting Brian's arm, registering just how hard he's taking this, how it's hurting him. He's got such an enormous heart. It matches his stature. John has to remember that. "Let's just... Let's all take a nap, yeah?"

"That sounds like an excellent idea," Freddie calls over. "Roger didn't come back to our room until this morning, so I'm sure he could use some sleep too."

Roger gasps. "Wanker!" He shoves Freddie in mock outrage. "How d'you know?"

"You woke me up," Freddie's face crinkles with wicked amusement. "By flinging yourself across my bed."

"I thought it was mine!"

"I know, dear, you clearly had an excellent evening. Which is why I shoved over a little and let you sleep with me."

Roger looks contrite, reaching out and rubbing Freddie's hair with affection. "Did you sleep okay, Fred?"

"I did, but I know a nap wouldn't hurt us. We're always going."

As Brian opens his mouth, Roger says "Shut it, Brian, I'll prod you if you snore. Teach you how to do it, John."

"Okay," John says quietly. "Let's get on then."

"There's a couple couches in the green room that look comfortable, figure we can shove 'em together to make a bed."

"Right. We've even got an engineer who can make it symmetrical or whatnot."

The four traipse back to the green room in a ragged line, and when the stage manager pokes his head in for a check, they are all sound asleep, layered and draped on top of each other.

And everyone is snoring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, rehearsal didn't go so well, but naps do, and when everyone is snoring, everyone can sleep I guess! Haha
> 
> *Brian uses a silver sixpence coin as a pick for his red special
> 
> The title of this tale is a segmented quote from a famous monologue of Prince Hamlet, in the play of his name written by William Shakespeare: "...To die, to sleep; to sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub."
> 
> Hope you liked this little piece, comments appreciated <3


End file.
